


let your love come out

by lacecat



Category: Black Sails
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacecat/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 Times John Silver and James Flint try to get it on, and 1 Time they're successful<br/>(featuring Billy, forces of nature, alcohol, gossip, the fucking British, and two hopeless romantic pirates)</p>
            </blockquote>





	let your love come out

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I wrote for fun off a prompt! I originally planned for more humor, but then it just sort of dissolved into romance briefly interrupted by sex. (Next up I'm planning on some super sad stuff, which is a lot more fitting with Black Sails canon, but I think we all need our happiness in the form of more lighthearted fics before soul-crushing season 4 comes around)
> 
> (title from "Let's Get It On". Because I'm terrible at titles and it was that or a Jason Derulo lyric)

1.

 

Flint’s back slammed against the wall, as Silver bunched up the front of his jacket in two large handfuls. He nearly had a moment to come up with a snarky quip before Silver’s mouth was over his, and Flint moaned into his mouth instead. 

 

Silver broke away for a moment, giving a low laugh. “Oh _captain_ ,” he drawled, and Flint growled before yanking his head back, drawing him in for another rough kiss. 

 

Breaking free from Flint’s mouth, Silver’s hands found their way to Flint’s hips. A recent shortage of space on the ship had meant that the vanguard had been relocated to sleep in the captain’s cabin, meaning that their private time had been rare and quick for the past several weeks. Now with an empty room, Silver intended to show the captain just how much he had missed him.

 

The quartermaster bit Flint’s lower lip with just enough force to draw blood to the surface, and let go of the captain’s jacket long enough to slide his hands underneath the material. Flint shamelessly arched into his touch, reaching down without breaking the kiss to grab at Silver’s ass, until their hips aligned just right. The captain moved his mouth to Silver’s jaw, as the man began to grind his hips up into Flint’s.

 

Then there was a knock at the door. “Captain? Silver? We sighted land,” Billy’s voice carried in. The doorknob began to move, and the two men sprang apart. 

 

Silver quickly ran a hand through his hair as Flint adjusted the front of his jacket, and Billy entered the room. Billy glanced over the two of them and very carefully did not look at the shattered glass in the corner of the room, courtesy of Silver just several minutes ago (when Flint had calmly suggested that he would quite like to go on his knees for Silver, and the quartermaster had promptly dropped the glass in response, lunging at him instead). 

 

Flint cleared his throat, refusing to look at Silver while Billy was in the room. “Yes. Prepare the men. We’ll be camping on the beach. I want them fresh and ready to go by dawn of two day’s time.”

 

Silver, who had been watching Flint’s throat move, suddenly snapped to attention.Billy just stared at him. “Silver?” 

 

“I- yes. As quartermaster, I shall do that.” 

 

The first mate’s eyes flickered back to Flint, then to Silver again, before finally turning on his heel and leaving the room. Flint turned to glare at Silver. “What did you do that for? Billy could’ve just told them.” 

 

It had been a few weeks since they had been able to properly sleep together, the crew combined lack of private space rendering anything more than quick groping in dark corners impossible. 

 

The quartermaster smirked. “Billy’s getting suspicious of the number of times he’s walked into us actually not arguing for once. Besides,” and his voice dropped into a lower, seductive tone, “I’ve been told on good authority that we have two long nights on land to spend. Perhaps I’d like to take my time.” 

 

Flint couldn’t help but to give a small smile. “Do you now,” he murmured, eyes dropping for just a second to the fresh pink mark on Silver’s jaw. 

  
Silver made a movement towards him, but Flint turned around. “Go tell the men,” he instructed, “and I will see you tonight.” 

 

Silver groaned, leaving the cabin, and Flint tried to busy himself with the papers on his desk, willing the flush to leave his body. 

 

There was something about Silver that allowed him to get under Flint’s skin with such ease, both when challenging him as quartermaster as well as to cause a much more physical reaction in private. Flint scrubbed a hand over his face, still feeling the impression that teeth had made on his lip.

 

 

•••

 

 

2.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Silver said, incredulous. 

 

Joji shook his head, his lips pursed. “I told you, they’re fucking shredded,” he said, motioning to the canvas that used to make up the captain’s tent for the beach. “It must’ve gotten eaten by rats or something. You’ll-” and for a second, Silver saw real fear in Joji’s eyes, which was something worth mentioning, because he had also seen Joji skewer three large men charging at him at the same time without breaking a sweat, “-you’ll tell the captain, right?”

 

Silver ran a hand through his long hair, feeling the urge to pull some of it out in frustruation. “He’s slightly less likely to kill me, I suppose,” he allowed, then sent a glare towards Joji. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.” 

 

“Tell who?” A voice came from behind Silver, and the dark haired man winced. 

 

“Ah. Captain. You’ve arrived early,” Silver exclaimed just a bit too loudly, turning around as best as he could with his peg leg dragging in the sand. Behind him, Joji just shook his head, then made the wise decision to find something to do far away from the captain and the torn-up tent. 

 

Flint looked past Silver at the bits and pieces of canvas, and then back to Silver. “Is that my tent?” he asked, in a rather dangerous sounding voice.

 

Silver winced. “Yes. Looks like the rats have gotten it,” he explained. “But there’s enough room in the main sleeping quarters if you need to be off the ship.”

 

Flint, surprisingly, did not look like he was going to fly off the handle in a fiery rage. “That’s a shame,” he said, toeing at a piece of canvas. 

 

Wary of the calm before the storm, Silver tried to catch his eye. “It is?” 

 

“Yes,” Flint stated, as if he was speaking about the weather, albeit in a low voice,“I was rather looking forward to having you split open on my cock tonight. What a shame we have no tent to do so in.”  


The blood in Silver’s body suddenly rushed down at the thought of riding Flint, the man’s hands grasping at his hips, before his mind came back to the present. Then his mind kicked back to the present, and he felt betrayed. “What? No, we could still do that!” 

 

Flint’s mouth turned up at a side. “I’ll be back on the Walrus if I am needed,” he said, almost smugly, and turned to walk away. 

 

Silver gaped after him, shutting his mouth once it was clear Flint was walking away. “I wish he’d lost his temper instead,” he muttered, startling when Joji came out of nowhere and patted him on the back sympathetically.

 

“The captain is a hard man to please,” Joji said, clearly thinking that Flint had whispered some promise of murder to Silver just then. Silver wanted to bang his head against a tree. 

 

“You have no idea.” 

 

 

•••

 

3\. 

 

 

It had been embarrassingly easy to steal one of the launch vessels to get back to the ship. Silver merely had to wait until the night watch had quite literally turned their backs, the drunk men long asleep or in the brothel, and had slipped out into the water to silently climb on one of the boats. 

 

Rowing as quietly as possible, he made it to the Walrus easily and tied off near the stern. Climbing up was much more tough with a peg leg, but Silver managed to get up onto the deck. He could see the light in Flint’s cabin was still burning, which he took to be a good sign (he would rather not find out if Flint really did sleep with a pistol underneath his pillow). 

 

Creeping across the deck, Silver made it to the door and quietly turned the knob, letting himself in. Turning around, he looked at the desk- and Flint was not sitting in his seat.

 

Rather, the feared captain legend himself was sitting cross-legged on the ground, a bottle of rum tucked between his legs. When Flint suddenly realized he was not alone, his head rolled up, and Silver realized that the man was drunk. 

 

“John Silver,” Flint breathed, letting his tongue wet his lips, his eyes practically glowing at the sight of the quartermaster. 

 

Silver sighed, realizing that his plans for a seduction were now once again delayed. He crossed the room, sliding down to sit by Flint, his peg leg thumping on the ground as he sat down. “You just had to start drinking before I got here,” he said, fondly watching as Flint tried to put the bottle to his mouth and ended up missing twice. 

 

Flint rolled his eyes, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “I thought you weren’t fucking coming,” he said, slightly unsteadily. “So yes, I’m having a drink. You can join me if you’d like,” he added, passing the bottle onto Silver. 

 

Silver accepted the bottle, taking a drag himself. When he set the bottle down on his other side, he jumped at the feeling of Flint’s hands running down his thigh.

 

“We can still enjoy this night,” Flint murmured into his ear, before taking an earlobe into his mouth as the same time as running his hand up and down Silver’s thigh. “I’ve been thinking about touching you all day, tugging your hair, tasting you-” 

 

Silver stifled a groan, not able to stop himself from splaying his legs out more, but after a few moments, he gently pulled away. “As much as I would love too, I have the feeling you’re about to pass out,” he said, firmly putting his hand above Flint’s, which was now drawing delicious circles along the inside of his leg. “James.” 

 

Flint narrowed his eyes, almost sulking, as he pulled his hand away from Silver’s leg. Silver put his hand down and was getting ready to stand up when Flint’s eyes darkened and he moved, swinging one leg over Silver’s lap to straddle him. Silver’s hands instinctively went to Flint’s waist, and Flint swayed, leaning to whisper in Silver’s ear, “I want your cock in my mouth, I want to feel and taste you come now,” he said, his mouth hot against his neck. 

 

Silver gave another groan, this time from frustration, but he managed to move thecaptain off his lap again. “Tomorrow, all right? We can do all that tomorrow, I promise you,” he said, keeping a firm arm between them. 

 

Flint glared, but the alcohol had loosened his wits. He got up, slightly unsteady on his feet, and Silver watched him clamber over to his bed, where he toed off his shoes and collapsed onto it, muttering under his breath. 

 

Silver used the desk to brace himself to a standing position and startled when he heard Flint mumble, “Stay here with me.”

 

A small smile on his face now growing, Silver crossed the room, lying down on the bed beside Flint to face him.“Of course”, he murmured, watching Flint’s eyes slowly close. 

 

In sleep, Flint’s face was less drawn, and he looked unburdened of the war that they were in the midst of fighting. For a moment, Silver could almost picture the young naval officer he had once been, hopelessly in love and unknowing of the evils of this world. Knowing that he would likely not have a chance for such carefree romance when the man was awake, Silver touched his jaw, tracing a finger up Flint’s cheekbone in a meandering line back and forth, before he too fell asleep, his hand finding its way to loop around Flint’s waist. 

 

 

•••

 

4.

 

 

The next morning, Flint was even more irritable than usual, likely a combination of a terrible hangover and a recent lack of orgasms. He had gotten dressed quickly, pulling on a clean but wrinkled shirt and trousers, by the time Silver blearily opened his eyes. 

 

Silver rolled over in the cot, watching him put on his boots. He was about to convince the captain back into bed regardless of foul mood, but then remembered that they had a meeting with the other captains. With a huff, Silver’s head dropped back onto the pillow.

 

The captain turned, raising an eyebrow at the quartermaster. “Get up. We’re leaving now,” he ordered, striding out the door. 

 

Silver rubbed a hand over his face, considering the possibility of launching himself off the Walrus to avoid Flint’s surly mood, but soon got up and followed him out to the deck. 

 

During the meeting, Flint had been brusque, snapping at Rackham and Teach more times than usual. At one point, after a particularly rude response to one of Rackham’s suggestions, Silver had locked eyes with Anne Bonny and the two shared a long-suffering look.

 

Well, Silver had a long-suffering look, and Anne looked slightly less murderous and more annoyed at the current quarrel, which he considered close enough to equivalent. 

 

As soon as they had concluded any necessary business, Flint had pushed back his chair and stormed off. Silver stayed behind to drink with Rackham and Bonny. It was in those moments after, of course, that he could do more to further their agenda by persuasion, rather than rely on Flint’s shouting during the meeting. 

 

Rackham had been generous enough to provide the rum, and they all drank for a moment. “I do hope your men know enough to stay out of your captain’s way during one of his delightful moods,” the mustached captain said wryly after a moment. 

 

Anne scoffed as if in agreement, taking off her hat to put it on the table in front of her. “He was a bit of a bastard today.” 

 

“The men know well enough to avoid him most of the time despite his mood,” Silver said, giving a small laugh. 

 

“And you?” Rackham asked, taking a sip of his rum. 

 

“I, on the other hand, have grown quite accustomed to dealing with any mood in close quarters.” 

 

The other captain tilted his head at that, considering Silver for a long moment. “You and Flint. I know the rumors on the street, but is it true that you’re partners in, shall I say, the biblical sense as well?”

 

Silver blinked, but quickly kept his composure. Apparently the rum had given Rackham the extra bit of courage to ask him that question. “We are partners,” he replied, keeping his response ambiguous and short.

 

The fact that Flint and he were not platonic was not exactly a secret among the pirate crews (there was only so many explanations one could offer to why they occasionally appeared ruffled and flushed coming from dark corners of the ship, and quite frankly, the wooden walls did not muffle sound at all) but early on in their relationship, they had both come to an agreement that it was best to keep private, so that the men were not forced to contemplate the consequences of their captain and quartermaster fraternizing if it was to be clearly visible in front of them. 

 

Rackham gave a small snort. “Of course. I’m not surprised. Although I had thought that Flint was a lover of women, what, with that Barlow woman and Eleanor Guthrie.”  


Anne leveled a glare to her own partner. “He can want both men and women, Jack,” she said sharply. Silver was nearly surprised by her vehemence, but then remembered that word was that Anne often shared a bed with Max at one time, as well as Jack. 

 

“Sorry, darling. Of course I know that,” Rackham said, placating, and Anne sat back again. 

 

Then Silver’s mind clicked. “Wait. Eleanor Guthrie? And Flint?” Something ugly burned in his chest at the idea of the two of them in a compromising position, and Silver wished he had left with Flint. 

 

Rackham shrugged. “Flint was her favorite once upon a time. I always assumed that’s how Flint won her favor in lieu of Charles.” He backtracked quickly upon looking at the expression on Silver’s face. “Of course, it was just a rumor. It might be false. God, I hope false. Darling, would you quickly get Mr. Silver some more rum?” 

 

Silver pushed back his chair from the table, his face stony. “No need. I’ll be on my way,” he said, leaving. 

 

He knew that Flint had previous lovers. He even knew their names, as Flint had told him of the ghosts of the Hamiltons. At the time, when Flint had stared at him from across a fire on an island far away and recalled his past lost loves, Silver had no reason to be jealous, but hearing of more recent lovers, it made Silver sickeningly contemplate his place in Flint’s life. Additionally, Silver’s mind helpfully supplied, what if Silver was just another name on the long list of people to never quite able to measure up against the Hamiltons?

 

By the time Silver made it back to the Walrus, it was mid-afternoon, and after pulling aside one of the men, he learned that Flint was in his cabin. Pushing open the door, he let himself in.

 

Flint was seated at his desk, a chart in front of him. “What are you doing here?” he asked, stern but apparently less annoyed than before. 

 

Now that he was facing him, Silver faltered for a second, but then marched his way around the desk, leaning over to kiss Flint roughly. The captain was still for a moment before reciprocating, pulling Silver to stand between his legs. 

 

Silver greedily traced his mouth with his tongue, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him even closer. Flint gave a small moan, and they were both lost in the kiss for several moments before Silver clambered into his lap, careful to swing his stump up over the armchair. It was an awkward angle, but it would make do. “I want you now,” he murmured, tugging at Flint’s short hair until the man was forced to crane his neck back. 

 

The captain was panting as Silver attached his mouth to his neck, biting a mark where tendons ran down underneath column of pale flesh. _Mine_ , the small greedy part of Silver proclaimed, as he moved back to suck Flint’s tongue into his mouth. _Mine, no one else,you’re mine-_

 

Flint broke free with a pant, his eyes searching. “What is it, really?” he said, looking up at Silver, and Silver realized that he may have been saying those last set of words out loud. 

 

Silver could feel a flush break out on his neck as being caught so easily (Flint knew him too well). “Jealousy,” he replied, in a rare moment of honesty. 

 

“Jealousy,” the captain repeated, leaning back to look into Silver’s face more. “Jealous of who?” 

 

Silver scoffed. “Of you. It was ridiculous, it was just something Rackham was saying.” He began to move back off of Flint’s lap. “He just mentioned you and Eleanor Guthrie, and, well, I guess I have a jealousy streak-” He began to contemplate the logistics of moving to Florida to become an orange farmer to avoid this next part of conversation. 

 

Before he could back up more, Flint’s hands flew up to grip his waist, preventing him from moving. “There was never anything between me and Eleanor Guthrie,” he said firmly. “And even if there had been-” and Flint’s face made that weird expression halfway between distasteful and incredulous- “You have nothing to be jealous of. I’m with you,” he ended. “And I will only be with you.” 

 

With those simple words, the jealousy evaporated from Silver’s stomach, replaced by asurprisingly warm feeling. He wanted to say, “I know,” but he didn’t, and that might have shown on his face, if Flint’s surprised expression was anything to go by. 

 

Silver couldn’t come up with the words to answer him in that moment, but pressed his lips on Flint’s again, this time softly, thanking him in small, soft, movements of his lips and hands, as Flint lightly ran his hands down Silver’s back. 

 

When they separated, Flint’s eyes had a glimmer of humor in them. “Of course, if I knew your reaction to whatever Rackham said was to clamber in my lap like some wanton creature, I might have wished that Rackham would have told you earlier,” he murmured, teasing. “Unfortunately for us, DeGroot will be in here soon, and I need to finish these charts.” 

 

Silver let out a groan, allowing his head to fall on Flint’s shoulder. “Perhaps we are cursed, with all these interruptions,” he said, muffled. 

 

Flint’s hands stopped their path suddenly. “I might have a solution to that particular problem.” 

 

•••

 

5.

 

 

By some amount of luck, the Barlow house was empty when Silver and Flint came up toit that night. As Flint took both of their horses to tie them up to the post outside, Silver went through the door to light a few candles, casting the room in a soft orange glow.

 

When Flint had suggested it for their brief escape, Silver had been wary, not wanting Flint to grow morose at the memory of his deceased lovers, or perhaps even feeling like he betrayed Miranda at the very least by bringing Silver into her old home. 

 

(“I suppose that defiling a place with sodomy isn’t considered very respectful of the dead,” Silver said wryly, wincing inwardly at his words as they came out.

 

But although Flint had rolled his eyes, his tone was soft and he was still adamant on them going. “She would’ve wanted me to be happy,” he said quietly, and Silver’s heart breaks a tiny bit at seeing the suddenly vulnerable expression fleet over the captain’s face. “I see no shame in taking you there.”  


Silver just had to reach out and lightly touch his hand then, keeping contact between his fingers and the soft skin of Flint’s wrist until the horse shuffled forward a bit too far, and neither of them said anything more about it.)

 

For the first time in several days, the itching sensation of lust beneath Silver’s skin was now more of a quiet hum, as Flint stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. 

 

In the candlelight, Flint’s beard and hair glowed a dark red color, his green eyes a faint glimmer that caught the flame’s light. The shadows that Silver once found terrifying now just added to his complex features, the way his face was watching Silver, almost as if he was carefully memorizing the details of Silver himself. Suddenly, Silver couldn’t breathe, needing Flint’s touch like air, and his mouth opened slightly. 

 

Flint stepped forward, still so careful, and Silver met him halfway. They kissed there in the front room for what seemed like an eternity, Flint’s hands coming up to cradle Silver’s face. The cold metal of his rings lightly snagged Silver’s hair, and beneath his own hands, Silver could feel Flint’s bones shifting as the man tilted his head. 

 

Unlike their previous encounters, Silver thought to himself, this was something intimate, rare in the way that they were slow to undress, to remain standing and breathe into each other’s space. There was no hurry, as it was only the two of them in that moment. 

 

Flint broke away, fixing his eyes on Silver. “I need you,” he said quietly, and fuck, if Silver’s heart didn’t beat just a bit faster at the way that Flint said those words, the slight waver that belied strong emotion for such simple words, and as he carefully tucked a tendril of hair behind his ear, his gaze soft, brow wrinkled slightly, and with a start, Silver realized that he was in love with Flint, had been for quite some time. 

 

“And I you,” Silver replied, his eyes searching into Flint’s, and honestly, it must be the combination of the warm night air and the flickering candlelight, for he was quite content to never have this sort of emotional talk with Flint, but here they were anyways. But for once, Silver was not afraid. 

 

Flint’s eyes dropped to his mouth once more, and they moved in impossibly closer, just as they heard the first distant explosion.

 

Flint jerked upright, and Silver clutched onto his jacket in shock. They stared at each other, without words, and then both hurried out of the house to outside, just as they heard another explosion. 

 

The horses, spooked, were making nervous sounds, and Silver shushed them, taking their reins in hand as Flint took out a spyglass from the saddlebag and peered through it at the sudden plumes of smoke in the distance, the moon casting faint light through the tendrils of dark smoke. 

 

“Fuck,” Flint swore. “Cannon fire, it looks like a British ship is just outside the harbor.” He turned back to look at Silver. “If we leave now, we can make it back to the Walrus. Let’s hope the men are not too drunk.”  


“For all nights the British to pick to come back,” Silver growled, grim at the prospect of the battle looming in their future, and they both moved to get on their horses, speeding down the path away from the house. 

 

•••

 

1.

 

 

After the battle had concluded, the British suitably chased away from trying to conquer Nassau once more, Silver realized he hadn’t seen Flint since they boarded the British ship and dispatched it of its officers. 

 

Seeing Billy on the foredeck, he strode up to him. “Where’s Flint?” he asked with a sudden urgency, ignoring the pain in his peg leg from the battle. 

 

Billy pointed down below the deck, and Silver’s heart plummeted. “Some of the men were bringing him to Howell, last time I saw. He didn’t look too bad, though,” he hastily added upon seeing Silver’s face. 

 

Silver spun away, marching below deck to the surgeon’s area. The Walrus had not suffered too much damage, but if Flint was injured enough to accept help from the crew, then it had to be bad. “Howell!” 

 

The doctor emerged from behind a walled partition, recognizing Silver. “Mr. Silver. He received a nasty blow, but he’ll be fine,” the doctor told him. Silver pushed by him in his haste and rounded the partition. 

 

Flint was lying on the table, but he was to be sitting up, and Silver took a deep breath. “You idiot,” he hissed, his jaw clenching. “This is exactly why the captain shouldn’t be on the front line.” Behind him, he could hear Howell quietly walk away. 

 

Flint didn’t even bother to roll his eyes, instead looking at Silver with a fond expression on his face. “The captain leads his men, Mr. Silver,” he said. “Isn’t that what you tell me all the time? The men were only helping me down here, I suppose, so that they wouldn’t have to face your wrath apparently if I were to fall overboard.”  


The quartermaster gave a huff, scanning over Flint to make sure there were no more serious injuries. Other than a deep cut on his chest, bandaged by Howell already, and a bloodied nose, the captain appeared no worse for the wear. “Has Howell cleared you?” He asked instead. 

 

Flint raised an eyebrow. “Yes. I was about to make my way up before you rudely barged in, too-”  


“Good,” Silver said, cutting him off. “You owe me a night, captain.” 

 

Flint smirked. “Is that so?”

 

Once they made their way back up to Flint’s cabin, which was blessedly free of the vanguard, Silver made sure to lock the door before turning to Flint, pushing him on the bed. 

 

“I swear to God,” Silver said between kisses, “I won’t stop if Avery himself barges through that door to interrupt us.” His hands worked their way underneath Flint’s shirt, mindful of the bandages there, and felt the captain shiver at the touch. “You asshole. It’s been too long since we’ve last done this.”

 

Flint laughed into his mouth, pulling Silver down on top of him, his knee finding its way between Silver’s legs. “I expect nothing less,” he said, his eyes bright with mirth, and that warm feeling was back in Silver’s chest at the sight. 

 

He was hopelessly in love with Flint, and perhaps he would be the end of the man one day, as he feared and Flint had accepted that night on Maroon Island. But perhaps, in this strange world that they lived in, they could have this happiness now, and as Silver kissed him over and over again, he would risk it all to have this now, to feel the warmth of Flint’s love in return. 

 

Still full of adrenaline now after the battle, Silver quickly made work of the buckle of Flint’s trousers open, pulling his half-hard cock out. Flint gave a soft groan, his head falling back, as Silver dragged his hand up and down, until Flint was fully hard. “Fuck,” the captain swore, as the quartermaster twisted his hand on the upstroke.   
  
Silver kissed him one more time, before dragging his tongue down his neck, stopping at the base of his neck to lap at the accumulation of freckles there. The man was covered in freckles, yet Silver could die happy tracing the constellations they formed under his tongue. Flint swallowed, and Silver took the opportunity to kiss his pulse, where the skin moved, tasting sweat and the faint ocean smell that permeated both of them. He had once swore that he would never become accustomed to the ocean life, but if the pirate life entailed mapping out one James Flint’s body with his mouth every night, then perhaps he could be persuaded. 

 

Sliding down Flint’s body, Silver glanced up through his eyelashes at Flint’s beautifully flushed face, before taking the head of his cock into his mouth. 

 

“God,” Flint moaned, his hand finding its way into Silver’s hair, tugging slightly. “Your mouth, fuck, your mouth feels so good-” 

 

Silver’s mouth slid off his cock with a filthy popping sound, pushing up his shirt to kiss at Flint’s abdomen. Dragging his tongue down a hipbone, he paused right at the base of his cock, looking up at Flint with a smile. “I missed this,” Silver said, his voice already slightly hoarse, and Flint’s head writhed back and forth as Silver took him into his mouth once more, this time with more suction, his hand working furiously at the base of his cock. He had, missed the weight of Flint’s cock on his tongue, the pleasant stretch of his lips, the way that Flint quaked underneath him, those gorgeous thighs bunching under his hands. 

 

“John,” Flint gasped out, as Silver continued to work up and down. Eventually, the strain on his amputated leg became too much, and he was forced to release the heavy cock from his mouth, sitting up with a groan to work at the bindings of the peg leg. 

 

As he eased the leg off, grimacing as the leather slid down the stump, Flint took the opportunity to take off his shirt and trousers, dropping his boots off the side of the bed as well. Silver let the peg leg drop to the floor as well, and Flint’s hands found their way underneath his shirt, lightly teasing up and down until Silver’s eyes began to close slightly in pleasure, his mouth dropping open at the gentle drag of Flint’s fingernails over his ribcage. 

 

Soon, they were both naked, and Silver was straddling Flint’s muscular thighs. Flint laid back on the bed, his hands on Silver’s hips, and dug his fingers in lightly just to watch Silver’s eyes close again for a moment before snapping open once more, now determined to pleasure Flint. 

 

Silver leaned down, kissing him again, this time their mouths sliding together hot and almost lazily, as Flint wrapped a hand around both of their cocks. They moaned simultaneously, as Flint’s calloused hand gave delicious friction that had Silver swearing in only a few thrusts. 

 

He bracketed Flint’s head with his arms, tilting his head so that their foreheads were pressed together. “James, just like that, yes,” Silver moaned, his voice tight with arousal, hips rocking in sync with the captain’s hand, feeling Flint’s breath cool on his lips, mouth silently working open and closed. 

 

Flint’s eyes were fixated on his face, wondering, and his other hand wandered up to the back of Silver’s neck. “John Silver,” he said, breathless, and hearing his name in such a reverent tone, Silver cried out, his hips thrusting forward one more time before he came,his vision darkening for a second as he was overwhelmed with pleasure. Normally he would be embarrassed to have come so soon, but Silver couldn’t find it in him, simply enjoying the waves of pleasure that crested and faded. 

 

Flint worked him through it, until Silver was capable of thought once more, batting Flint’s hand away to mouth at his jaw while working a hand between their bodies, grasping both Flint’s hand and his cock in an intimate gesture. “Come on, come for me,” Silver hoarsely said, staring right into green eyes, and Flint gave a low moan as soon he came as well, his body shaking underneath Silver’s. 

 

Suddenly exhausted, Silver collapsed on top of Flint, unable to even clean up the mess they had made. “Shit,” he mumbled, his legs feeling both stiff and loose at the same time. 

 

Flint made an agreeing sound, kissing the top of his head. “If Avery came into this room right now, I wouldn’t have the will to get up and kick him out,” he said into Silver’s hair. 

 

Silver chuckled, his mouth curling into a smile on Flint’s neck. Flint managed to pull a single sheet on top of the two of them, while the quartermaster pressed his lips in a gentle kiss to the other man’s collarbone, just above the bandages. “I think once we’ve burned England to the ground, we should take a long trip to somewhere remote and isolated,” he murmured.

 

Flint gave a grunt of assent, his eyes already closed. “Is that so?” 

 

“Somewhere where we can live in bed. No interruptions, nothing but you and me. A farm, or something. I could figure out agriculture,” Silver started to contemplate, but soon his eyelids were heavy, and he fell asleep curled over Flint.

 

Perhaps they would. 


End file.
